


A Story To Tell

by elem (elem44)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8106265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elem44/pseuds/elem
Summary: Written for the Vamb 2012 Secret Santa exchange. My recipient was sibs and one of her requests was for a babyfic. The story is set towards the end of season seven. It branches off into AU after the episode Homestead through Endgame and beyond. There is no C/7 in this universe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I must give credit to the writers of Endgame – I have copied and paraphrased their dialogue for this story.
> 
> Thank you to Kim J for the beta although I have fiddled with it since, so all mistakes are mine. And thanks to audabee for the read through and also for my new site – I would have no home for my words if not for you. Ta mate.
> 
> To the MOTW – Sira and Ria – another wonderful exchange, ladies. Kudos and thank you. {{hug}}

#### December, 2378

Stunned and mortified, all I can do is stare.

I watch the Doctor’s lips move and the absurd words spill forth into the ether but my brain refuses to process them. Instead, I gawp, slack-jawed, my face twisting into a bewildered look of incredulity.

How can this be? How in God’s name did this happen?

My heart rate skyrockets; its galloping thud drowns out all other sound and my ears buzz in the vacuum.

The Doctor is waiting for an acknowledgment and after what seems like an interminable silence, I choke out a garbled, _“I_ _‘_ _m what?!”_

He barely flinches and I resent his composure.

“I gather from your reaction, Captain, that you were not expecting this particular diagnosis?”

” _Expecting!?_ ” Is this his idea of a joke? “ _Absolutely_ not”. There must be some mistake. Check your instruments, Doctor; repeat the scan.” When he looks as though he might refuse, I scowl and snap, _“_ _Now!”_

I fight the almost irresistible urge to scream but after taking a deep breath, I tamp down the rising hysteria and add a slightly less biting, “Please, Doctor?”

“I have already double checked the results, Captain. There is no mistake.”

“Check again. _That’s an order_.”

My heart is now cart-wheeling through in my chest and my stomach is on a rollercoaster ride around the remainder of my churning insides. The queasiness that brought me to Sickbay in the first place has ballooned – _oh, brilliant visual, Kathryn_ – to epic proportions; so much so that I hold grave concerns for my dignity, not to mention the Doctor’s shoes. The latter, I fear, are about to be doused in the untimely return of the toast and few sips of tea I managed to swallow at breakfast.

Oblivious to this impending regurgitative disaster, the Doctor tut-tuts and hums as he waves the scanner over my lower abdomen. His obliviousness to my distress and his lack of insight as to the gravity of the situation has me almost apoplectic with anger and I am sorely tempted to shake him until his holographic teeth rattle but I restrain myself.

This isn’t his fault.

Oh, God, it’s mine; _all_ mine.

I should have known there would be a reckoning for those few stolen hours of pleasure; some form of dire retribution for breaking those long held rules. Did I really think that I would get away with casting aside my precious parameters, especially after making such a song and dance about adhering to them for so damned long? The universe has a way of maintaining the balance.

But really – did it have to be quite so cruel?

All those years of abstinence, didn’t they count for something? It’s damned unfair. 

If I have to suffer the consequences of my actions, something less drastic would have sufficed. An official reprimand, a report placed in my file, no coffee rations for a week, a couple of bad hair days. They’re perfectly adequate penalties – _this_ is something else entirely.

It’s not simply a hiccup on my life’s bumpy road; it’s a full-blown detour, a re-routing of my life’s plan of gargantuan proportions.

I hadn’t figured anything like this into the equation of my current existence but here it is, in all its nauseating glory.

The small measure of calm that I thought I’d found deserts me, and pure panic sets in.

_What the hell_ _am I going to do?!_

The situation is ludicrous. It can’t possibly be true.

I’m a forty-five year old woman who’s had one night of mind-blowing sex in almost seven years, how on Earth can I possibly be…

Oh my God!

I’m _pregnant!_

The Doctor – his smug look of superiority set firmly in place – is holding up the medical tricorder so I can read the results with my own eyes. The evidence is undeniable. Elevated hormone levels, increased endometrial density, breast tissue proliferation, an amniotic sac, embryonic dimensions, DNA and chromosomal analyses, a tiny fluttering heartbeat…

And it’s a boy.

Oh, sweet mother of God!!!

Realization hits me like a phaser blast and I battle an overwhelming urge to cry. Fear and wonder vie for supremacy.

Fear wins.

I can’t have a baby! I just can’t!

Not here.

Not now.

It’s out of the question.

For most women, this would be a moment of abject joy but for me it strikes at the very heart of my existence. I have responsibilities that outweigh any personal wants or needs. Voyager is my first priority, our mission, the crew and their wellbeing my paramount concerns; I don’t have the time or energy to devote to a pregnancy or a child; not here in the Delta quadrant with its constant demands and unending array of horrors lurking around every corner.

Oh God, what have I done? How could I have let this happen?

I have no one else to blame but myself. I feel like a fool.

Of course, I’ve toyed with the idea of motherhood – what woman hasn’t – and I can’t deny that it’s something I’ve always imagined for myself, but the simple truth is, I can’t do this now and certainly not under these circumstances.

Tears sting my eyes but I refuse to let them fall.

However, I’m _not_ able to stop my meagre breakfast from making its reappearance.

Before I can warn the Doctor, I heave violently and throw up.

I give myself full marks for missing his shoes, but the treatment table doesn’t fare so well and he is not impressed – not that I give a damn. Gathering what little dignity I have left, I glare at him and mutter a half-hearted apology. “Sorry.”

He takes pity on me and instead of a brusque reprimand, his demeanour softens and he leads me to the far side of the bay and helps me up onto a biobed.

Standing close by my side, he gives me a sympathetic smile. “It is obvious that this news has come as a shock.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Understatement is his art form.

My stomach roils once more and I grimace as I swallow against the urge to heave. I’m not sure if it’s morning sickness or shock – though it hardly matters.

The Doctor loads a hypospray and presses it against my neck. With the cool hiss comes instant relief.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Would you care to discuss your options, Captain? You and the Commander have…”

I’m aware that the DNA analysis has revealed the identity of the father but that’s none of the Doctor’s business and I interrupt. “You mentioned options?”

“Yes, there are several. The pregnancy can of course be terminated.” I give an emphatic shake of my head in response to that suggestion and the Doctor continues. “Alternatively, the embryo can be removed and transplanted into a surrogate or kept in stasis until such time as you deem suitable to continue to term.”

He begins to rearrange instruments on the bench next to the biobed before he turns back towards me. I know there’s a ‘but’ coming, and I’m right.

“But,”

_Damn, it._

_“_ I’d be remiss if I did not warn you of the inherent risks involved in the extraction process. It is advisable to attempt removal before six weeks gestation and according to the gestational age of your embryo, we only have a week to ten day’s leeway. However, nothing is impossible.”

The urge to shake him has returned. Little does he realise – this whole situation is impossible.

It is almost too much to absorb all at once but a decision has to be made and quickly. I only have a week to decide what to do.

A surrogate is out of the question. I cannot justify asking any of my female crew to risk their health to carry my baby – it simply isn’t an option. But if I do decide to extract the embryo – I suddenly baulk at the cold and clinical concept – this isn’t a load of dilithium, this is Chakotay’s and my child.

My reaction gives me pause. It’s only been minutes since I learned of his existence and already I feel a sense of protectiveness towards the tiny creature growing inside me.

And the more I think about it, the more I realize how difficult this decision is going to be and, more importantly, that it is not one I can make on my own. Chakotay has to be told and his wishes taken into consideration. I did not conceive this child by myself, so the decision isn’t solely mine to make.

What will he say? Will he be as shocked as I am or….

A small, albeit hysterical, laugh almost escapes my stoic silence. I know exactly what he’ll say – he’ll be ecstatic. He has always been frank about his desire for a family; the concept is intrinsic to his culture, but this isn’t something that we planned, none of this was supposed to happen.

For a start, we weren’t supposed to fall in love. The Captain and First Officer of a stranded starship – it’s so clichéd it’s almost laughable. Be that as it may, that’s exactly what happened although we should never have let our guard down and slept together. There was a good reason why I’d maintained those parameters for so long.  And as far as getting pregnant – well, that was never on the agenda. It’s like something out of the dark ages. Things like this just don’t happen in the twenty-fourth century – except to me, it seems.

I feel pathetic and a more than a little stupid. If I could, I’d happily indulge myself by wallowing in my misery but I can’t. I have things to do and decisions to make.

The Doctor is still waiting for my answer but I don’t have one to give him – not yet.

“I’ll have to get back to you, Doctor. I need to speak to the Commander about the situation and….”

“Time is somewhat of the essence, Captain. As I’ve said, six weeks gestation is the upper limit for successful embryonic extraction and there are other issues to consider. At your last physical, you may remember we discussed the changing status of your hormonal levels and the likelihood that in a year to eighteen months, you will be entering menopause. I do not wish to unduly influence your decision but…”

I raise my hand. I don’t need to have it spelled out to me. Basically, it’s now or never.

God damn it!

Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, I close my eyes and use one of Tuvok’s meditative techniques to find a small nugget of calm amidst the turmoil within. After a moment, I open my eyes again and meet the Doctor’s concerned gaze. I take another deep breath and give him a determined nod. “Can I return to duty?”

“Is your nausea gone?”

“Yes. I feel fine.”

His eyebrows climb a millimetre or two but he knows better than to question my response. He hands me a vial filled with small white pills. “Take one of these each day before breakfast to control your morning sickness.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

Now that my stomach is settled and I’m armed with some concrete information, I feel a little more in control.

The Doctor makes a sweeping gesture towards the exit as I swing my legs over the side of the biobed and slide to my feet.  

He walks me to the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I’ll take what you’ve said under advisement and after I’ve discussed the situation with Chakotay, I’ll inform you of our decision.”

“I’m here if you have any questions.” There’s a heartbeat’s pause. “And Captain?”

I turn back towards him. “Yes, Doctor. Is there something else?” _Twins perhaps!?_ _Or maybe triplets. Wouldn_ _‘_ _t that be just dandy? I sincerely hope not but the way my day has been going so far_ _…_

“Congratulations, to you _and_ the Commander.”

I’m so embroiled in the doomsday scenario playing in my head, his words take me by surprise and I’m not sure what to say. Under any other circumstances, I would be thrilled at the prospect of having a child with the man I love, but lost in the Delta Quadrant, half a lifetime from home puts something of a dampener on the should-be-joyous event. A pained smile is the best I can manage and with that, I turn and leave Sickbay.

I’m almost at the turbo lift when I change my mind about returning to the Bridge. I need some ‘me’ time and after I check in with Tuvok to make sure there’s nothing urgent that requires my attention – which there isn’t – I decide that a tour of the ship is in order. Wandering Voyager’s corridors always helps me think and I hope that by spending time in deep accord with my ship, the reality of my pregnancy will filter through the shock and disbelief. I know if I take the time to look at the situation logically, I can come to some sort of rational resolution and, with luck, achieve an acceptable level of calm before confronting Chakotay with the news.

It’s not as though I’m the first person on Voyager to have a baby. Samantha Wildman has Naomi and the little girl has thrived in the unusual but nurturing environment provided by her mother and the crew; B’Elanna is about to give birth any day now and she’s still running Engineering with her usual whip-smart efficiency.

The crew will be more than supportive and Chakotay…?

My mouth quirks into a half smile as I predict his joy at the prospect of fatherhood and with that picture in my mind’s eye, my anguish begins to recede to a much more manageable level. I know he’ll be thrilled but also sympathetic and considerate of my reservations and concerns. He’s always had a knack for knowing the right thing to say at exactly the right time and he’s defused many a tense moment over the years – bringing calm rationality to otherwise stressful situations. It’s almost as though he holds some sort of secret key to my thoughts and feelings, and no matter how hard I try to conceal them, to him I’m an open book.  

The last five weeks have been a revelation and some of the happiest of my life. I’ve spent much of the time questioning why we didn’t push past the barriers sooner – although, that particular question was answered in glaring capital letters today. But as surprised and shocked as I still am by confirmation of my pregnancy, it’s impossible to quash the small starburst of wonder and joy that accompanies the terror.

I’m pregnant.

With Chakotay’s baby.

And even if we decide not to proceed with the pregnancy at this time, we will eventually and then become the family of which he’s always dreamed.

That thought sends a rush of warmth through me and loosens the cold fist of dread that has been holding my heart in its frigid grip since the Doctor’s revelation. Taking a few more deep breaths, I’m able to relegate the panic to places less likely to interfere with my reasoning, and thus, with my equilibrium returned and almost intact, along with a more positive outlook on this unexpected but life changing event, I turn towards the turbo lift and make my way back to the Bridge. 

It’s well past 0900 by the time I arrive and as I step onto the upper deck and say my good mornings to the alpha shift staff, I make eye contact with the man in question.

“Could you join me in my Ready Room, Commander?”

Pivoting to his feet, he answers with a brisk, “Aye, Captain.”before following me through the open door.

As the door hisses shut behind us, I make a beeline for the replicator. “Tea?”

“Thank you.”

I can feel his eyes on me, no doubt gauging my demeanour and wellbeing. As tempting as it is to blurt out the reason for this morning’s illness, I’ve decided to wait. The Ready Room, mid shift, is hardly the place for such a conversation and we need to talk in depth. Over dinner this evening is a better option for a serious and uninterrupted discussion about our future. I’m aware that it’s a flimsy excuse to delay the inevitable and although procrastination isn’t my usual modus operandi, I think I deserve a few hours grace to allow the reality of the situation to gel in my mind – I’m sure it’s the right thing to do. His voice brings me out of my internal debate.

“Are you feeling any better, Kathryn? What did the Doctor say?”

I smile reassuringly as I turn back towards him. “I’m much better, thank you. Nothing that a hypospray and a stern warning from the Doctor couldn’t fix.”

He looks relieved. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

I pass him his cup of tea and gesture for him to sit with me on the sofa.

As I sip my tea, I glance at him and smile, “I do have a couple of things I wish to discuss with you however, but not here. Dinner tonight, my quarters at 1900?”

I’m confident that I’ve done a brilliant job of sounding breezy and unconcerned but it appears not good enough to fool Chakotay.

He frowns. “Are you sure you’re all right? You still look a little pale.”

I can see that he’s itching to reach out and touch me, and to be honest, I’m tempted to let him but we’ve agreed to keep our relationship separate from our duty. There have to be some boundaries.

“I’m fine. Really, I am. So, dinner?” I want to steer the conversation away from my ‘health issues’.

He nods, clearly not convinced, but he lets it go and leans a little closer. “As long as you let me program the replicator.”

I glare in mock indignation before chuckling quietly. “If you want to do all the work, who am I to complain?”

His gaze softens. “Red or white wine?”

I shrug. “That’s a decision I’ll leave up to the cook. Whatever you feel like.” I don’t add that I won’t be drinking any.

“I’ll replicate something special after I’ve programmed dinner.”

“Excellent.” I place my cup on the table. “Now, back to business; is there anything new to report?”

“No, nothing on sensors. No more neutrino emissions and we’re well out of range of the nebula. It was a close call but it seems as though the Borg were unaware of our presence. We caught a lucky break.”

“ _This_ time. I’d like to get as much distance as we can between Voyager and that nebula. If B’Elanna can keep the engines at maximum for another twelve hours that should have us well out of harm’s way. Keep Seven monitoring as well.”

“Aye, Captain.” Although his answer is regulation, his voice is low and rumbles softly across the narrow gap between us. A warm hum flutters through my middle.

We may have made a pact not to bring our relationship to work but sometimes it’s difficult to maintain the distance. However, the rules are there for a reason and today, of all days, they must remain sacrosanct.

I smile as I stand and tug at my uniform jacket. I wonder if he knows how his mere presence affects me. When I catch the look in his eyes, I’m pretty certain that he does. Goosebumps tingle down my spine and I take a deep breath to stave off the flush of arousal. As tempting as it is to prolong our time together, I need to get back to work. “On that note, I should get moving. Unless you’ve invented a way for reports to write themselves, I have work to do.”

He looks genuinely regretful that he hasn’t invented self-writing reports and returning my smile, he picks up my cup as well as his and recycles both before he makes his way to the exit. Before the doors open, he turns towards me. “I’ll see you after shift, Kathryn.”

I can’t help myself and in a husky voice, I mimic his earlier reply, “Aye, Commander.”

The look on Chakotay’s face is priceless and he points at me. “That’s not fair.”

“All’s fair, Commander.”

We are both grinning like idiots – _so much for keeping this relationship out of the workplace._

After a few more moments of electrified silence, I shake my head and shoo him away with a wave of my hand. He merely raises an eyebrow before he takes a step back, triggering the door and turning to jog up the steps to the command level.

The door slides shut behind him and I breathe a solemn sigh.

Five weeks of bliss and tonight everything will change – I can’t see how it won’t change things, especially considering the decisions we have to make. I just hope that we can find a way around this dilemma that doesn’t place Voyager, our child or our relationship at risk. There is a lot riding on us making the right choices for everyone involved. And it’s about time we started.

Since we – or rather, since _I_ – laid waste to the parameters that I’d set so firmly in place almost seven years ago, we’ve done everything backwards. We fell into bed together without much thought of the consequences and then – after discussing the situation – decided that we needed to go back to the beginning and take things slowly. Talk about contrary.

We are best friends, so skipping the ‘getting to know you’ phase was easy, but being ‘best friends’ is still a far cry from being in a committed romantic relationship with one another. We needed to establish some ground rules and a solid base if we were going to make this work within the constraints of our positions and the demands of our jobs. In deference to that, we’ve spent the last five weeks courting one another, with nightly dinners in each other’s quarters and outings on the holodeck – flirtatious encounters that have been slowly building towards a repeat of that wondrous night of five weeks ago.

Oh, that night.

The mere thought of it is enough to melt my insides and trigger a throbbing rush of arousal. It’s still vivid in my mind and I’ve replayed it over and over, and not just what we did – _that_ I will never forget – but also how I felt and the feelings we shared. I had no idea that he still loved me. We are years distant from those heady early days when our attraction to one another held such promise. I assumed his feelings for me had gentled into our cherished friendship, but I couldn’t have been more mistaken. His passion was boundless and if I hadn’t already been head over heels in love with the man, I would be now.  Still, we should have showed better judgment and a little restraint.

It isn’t that I regret what happened, far from it; it’s just that I wish we’d kept clearer heads and at the very least, one of us should have thought about birth control. Ah, the joys of twenty-twenty hindsight. 

* * *

It happened the evening after Neelix left Voyager to live with his new family on the Talaxian asteroid.

He had always held such a special place in my heart and I was devastated.

Watching my little Talaxian friend’s shuttle leave the bay for the last time struck within me a deep chord of sadness and I had to fight to contain my heartache. I’d been biting back tears all day. I was truly happy for him but struggling with my decision to let him go – I have never been fond of good byes.

After finding the corridors lined with Voyager crew – a spontaneous gesture of love and respect for their departing crewmate – and along with Tuvok’s ‘dance’ and my final heartfelt farewell; the mortar of my emotional walls began to crumble.

Teetering on the brink of tears, I waited until everyone had left the bay before making my way in slow measured steps to my quarters. Neelix’s departure marked the end of an era – my last connection to Kes and those exciting, hope-filled early days of our journey. We’d endured so many traumas and losses since then and although Neelix was alive and well, I would miss him dreadfully. He had become an integral part of our lives on Voyager; his cheery disposition, his unerring ability to find the perfect diversion to keep us all – from lowliest crewman to captain – on an even keel would be truly missed. He was irreplaceable.   

Ensconced in my dimly lit quarters and content to wallow in my own personal pity-fest, I’d no sooner shrugged out of my uniform jacket than my door chimed, shattering the gloomy quiet.

I didn’t want to be disturbed but as always, duty took precedence; so, with a resigned sigh, I turned towards the door and invited my visitor to enter.

It was Chakotay. I should have known. He and his uncanny ability to sense my moods had picked up on my distress. Flashing me a warm smile, he entered, carrying with him a laden tray that he placed it on my dining room table. With a small flourish, he lifted a cover from one of the platters.

I looked at him and waited for an explanation.

“Neelix asked me to deliver this to you after he’d gone. He thought you might be feeling sad, so this afternoon, before he left, he prepared all your favourites in the hope that they would cheer you up. We have cheese pierogies, pecan pie with pera-cream, better-than-coffee-coffee-substitute and,” Chakotay picked up a flower from the tray and moved towards me, “a rose from me.”

I should have known that Neelix and Chakotay would be in cahoots and their sweet gesture was the final straw. The last flimsy vestiges of my stoicism shattered and for the first time since Kes’s departure all those years ago, I burst into tears.

Chakotay didn’t hesitate and before I gulped back a second sob, I found myself wrapped in his arms. A small voice in the back of my mind bleated a warning that this could only lead to trouble but I was so desperate for comfort that I ignored it. I’d fought so many battles on my own and been so strong for so long that the freedom of letting go was too tempting to resist.

And this was Chakotay. I trusted him with my life and more importantly, I trusted him with my heart. He would never judge or hold my moment of weakness against me.

My tears were cathartic but they didn’t last long – they never did – however, his embrace was so comforting and I fit so perfectly, I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. How could something that felt so right, be wrong? With my head nestled against his shoulder, the reassuring thud of his heart under my ear and the warmth his scent lulling me, I closed my eyes and held on tight.

I tried to resist but his nearness, my sorrow and the soothing hum of words he was whispering in my ear were too much. Before I knew what I was doing, my mouth was seeking his; my lips dragging along his jaw as my hands slid over his shoulders and into his hair. I pressed my body hard against him as my sadness tipped seamlessly into arousal. With little more than a whimper, I surrendered to the pulsing heat of my body’s needs and as I wrapped myself around him, I felt him harden against my belly; the heat of him making my insides quiver and throb.

He groaned into my mouth as our kiss deepened but his lips remained soft and pliant, his strong hands stroking my back and sides firmly but with such reverence that, oh God, I just ached to be a part of him.

He was a mass of contradictions. His hardness and strength translated into gentle sweeping caresses that only heightened my arousal yet he never pushed; he let me lead, and I knew that if I had asked him to stop, he would have in an instant. He’d given me so much power and trust; it filled my heart to bursting. I couldn’t have loved or wanted him more.

Yes, it was love and it had been for a very long time. I was a fool to pretend it was anything else. The realization gave me courage and weaving my fingers through his hair, I changed angles and pulled his mouth to mine for another toe-curling kiss. There was nothing tentative about this one; I threw myself into it, body and soul, and I think I moaned Chakotay’s name or God’s more than once.

We staggered to the bedroom and with as much grace as I could muster whilst still kissing and pressing myself up against him, I stripped off my clothes as he shrugged out of his and we tumbled onto the bed in a tangle of limbs.

His hands continued their gentle caresses and, humming his approval, he cupped my breasts and pressed open mouthed kisses to the space between where my heart hammered against my ribs.

I wrapped my legs around his hips, urging him closer but as he hovered over me, he held my gaze, his eyes dark but questioning. I couldn’t bear to see him unsure of us or what we were about to embark upon, so I held his face between my hands, looked him directly in the eyes, and told him that I loved him.

His whole body trembled and I could have sworn I saw tears well in his eyes. He took my lips in a searing kiss that burned its way right into my heart and as he entered me, he whispered against my lips that he loved me too.

I arched up into him; the fullness, warmth and weight of his body as it pressed into mine had me gasping and straining for more. It was all I had imagined and more than I could ever have hoped for. This was the culmination of all our years together, all our sorrow and laughter, every argument and harsh word, the many moments of quiet accord, every battle and near miss, each discovery and the rare but precious moments of peace.

It was us, and it was perfect.

We made love more than once that night, each time more memorable than the last and waking up in his arms the following morning was a revelation in itself. I was ready to embark upon another round of lovemaking; my body hummed, my long dormant nerve endings still tingling with need. I undulated against him, my lips tracing along his jaw and my hand seeking him under the covers but he gently eased me away from him. Holding my hands in his, he suggested that we abstain until he’d had a chance to court me.

I was startled by his suggestion and, I’ll admit, a little hurt that after only one night, he was willing to pull away, but when he explained that his intention had always been to romance me and prove how much he loved me, I relented. His sincerity and earnest yearning for something deep and enduring won me over. Besides, I love him – I would do almost anything for him.

* * *

That was five weeks ago and to say our lives have changed for the better is a monumental understatement. I just hope that we can take this next development in our stride and not let it tear us apart.

* * *

Following my trip down memory lane, the remainder of the day was spent accomplishing very little. My efforts to concentrate on the tedious Engineering and Astrometric reports were a complete failure. 

My mind is on other things.

What I do notice is that my hand keeps drifting down to my lower abdomen. I’m acutely aware of the small life growing there and overly preoccupied with its wellbeing. I’m not sure whether I should be concerned about this sudden shift of focus and the fact that I’m already emotionally attached to my baby but I fear that my perceptions have been skewed by the knowledge of its existence.

I’m torn. 

The intellectual part of my brain is rattling off the physical and emotional effects of pregnancy hormones while the less rational part of me is simply awestruck by the prospect of motherhood. I’m being pulled in so many directions that I’m almost dizzy and as a starship captain, I can’t afford to be in such a state. This is the reason why it’s such a bad idea to mix command and relationships but I can’t help the way I feel. Besides, it’s too late now.

I make a concerted effort to distance myself from my churning thoughts – running in mental circles is simply tying me in emotional knots and not achieving anything. After a stern word with myself, I push the thoughts as far from my mind as I can and knuckle down to work.

End of shift can’t come quickly enough.  

The time arrives at last and at 1800, I leave my Ready Room. After a quick report from the Beta shift, I make my way to deck three. I have an hour to prepare myself for what I imagine will be an emotional and possibly fraught evening of revelations. I can’t imagine that Chakotay will be anything other than supportive but when I think back to my reaction this morning, I realize I’m going to have to keep an open mind. Shock affects everyone in different ways.

After my shower, I spend precious moments trying to decide what to wear. I don’t want to send the wrong message and wearing civilian clothes might muddy the waters, so I put on my uniform, set the table and dim the lights. As I’m lighting some candles, I hear the whine of the transporter and look up in surprise.

Chakotay materializes in the middle of my quarters; a large bunch of flowers clasped in his hand.

He grins. “Am I late?”

“No, you’re right on time.” My legs seem to have a mind of their own and I drift towards him. To cover my nervousness, I quip, “Something wrong with the door?”

His grin broadens as he hands me the flowers. We’re mere inches from one another and he leans even closer as he explains. “I didn’t think it would be discreet to be seen carrying flowers to the Captain’s quarters.”

I nod. He’s right but I have a feeling that he loves the intrigue and keeping me guessing. It is a definite plus in my book but for now, that’s my secret. I inhale the scent of the flowers, it’s heady and sweet but I turn to practical things. “I should put these in water.”

Moving past him to look for a vase, I only take two steps before he grabs my hand and swings me back into his arms, his lips finding mine as he holds me flush against him.

Flowers forgotten, I fall into his kiss and have to stifle a sigh as he pulls away but with my arms gripping his shoulders, he doesn’t go far.

His thumb chafes across my cheek as he whispers, “I’ve been wanting to do that all day so I thought it would be a good idea to get it out of the way; you know, to alleviate the tension.”

Our lips are only millimetres apart and I’m having trouble stringing a coherent sentence together but manage a glib, “That’s very considerate of you.” A wicked thought enters my head. “I’m still a little tense; do you think a second kiss…?”

The rest of my sentence is lost as his hands sweep into my hair and he again covers my mouth with his. I know we have important things to discuss but I love him and his kisses are so good that I just want to live in the moment for a little bit longer before I say the words that will irrevocably alter our idyll.

Common sense must prevail, however, and I pull away, biting my lip as I put a little distance between us, but before I can utter a word, like a bucket of cold water, Tuvok’s voice comes over the comm. _“_ _Senior officers, report to the Bridge._ _“_

I’ve missed my opportunity and mumble under my breath as we head out the door, “Next time we deactivate the comm. system.”  

He snorts a laugh and thinks I don’t mean it but he’s living in a world of ignorant bliss, and it’s where he’s going to have to stay for the time being.

Less than a minute later, we step onto the Bridge and as I take note of the anomaly on the viewscreen, I query Tuvok as we move to the command deck and take our seats. “What is it?”

“Judging from the tachyon emissions, some sort of temporal rift.”

Seven arrives and is accessing data from her science station. “How is it being generated?”

I look up at the viewscreen before quickly scanning the readouts on my console. The data doesn’t make sense. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

The anomaly is widening but after several minutes, we’re still no closer to figuring out what it is. The Delta Quadrant has a habit of throwing puzzles in our path and a small voice is telling me to get the hell out of here but my curiosity is piqued as well.

“I’m detecting nadion discharges on the other side of the rift.”

We both turn towards Tuvok but it’s Chakotay who asks, “Weapons fire?”

We are treated to a rare Vulcan frown. “It’s possible. The signature appears to be Klingon.”

Klingon!? We’ve encountered them before in the Delta Quadrant and my reaction is instantaneous. _“_ _Red alert._ _“_

The wail of the red alert siren drowns out the other noises on the Bridge and all eyes are riveted to the rift opening in front of us. I can feel the increased tension but my crew is well trained and practiced at dealing with the unknown.

We wait but not for long.

“There’s a vessel coming through the rift.”

Chakotay turns towards tactical again. “Klingon?”

Tuvok’s response is measured. “No. Federation.”

Feelings of hope, fear, suspicion and excitement all trip over one another as we stare at the viewscreen. A second later, a small ship – not dissimilar to the Delta flyer in design – emerges from the anomaly and heads straight towards us.

Harry’s console beeps. “We’re being hailed.”

I rise from my chair and move towards the centre of the command deck. “On screen.”

For the second time today, I’m struck dumb.

Larger than life and coolly regarding us as though it’s something she does every day is _me_ – an older version, no less – but it’s definitely me.

Words fail me but my elderly doppelganger appears to have no trouble speaking and snaps out an order. “Recalibrate your deflector to emit an anti-tachyon pulse. You have to close that rift.”

My hackles rise. How dare she start throwing orders around as if she owns the place? Anger prompts my response and I grind out a surly, “It’s usually considered polite to introduce yourself before you start giving orders.”

Tuvok interrupts with more bad news. “Captain, a Klingon vessel is coming through.”

It seems that I’m no match for my future self – she’s entirely unmoved by my objection. “Close the rift. In case you didn’t notice, I outrank you, Captain. _Now do it_.”

It’s been a long time since someone of higher rank put me in my place and I can’t say that I like it much but I have little choice and give Tuvok a quick nod. An anti-tachyon pulse discharges from our deflector dish and the rift snaps shut.

The red alert is still blaring but all eyes are on my grey-haired twin and me.

I can feel my eyes narrow as I glare at her. “I did what you asked. Now tell me what the hell is going on.”

With a smug half-smile, she inclines her head. “I’ve come to bring Voyager home.”

* * *

The Doctor confirms her identity – it is me and not a clone or alien entity. She is a Kathryn Janeway from twenty-six years in the future who has returned like some imperious, aged Pied Piper to show us a way back to the Alpha quadrant. The nebula we passed three days ago is apparently ‘our way home’ and although it’s crawling with Borg, the Admiral assures me that she has technology that will get us through.

I’m wary of her but after something of a heart to heart in my Ready Room I warm to her a little. I see glimpses of me through the brusque autocratic exterior and it makes me wonder what has happened to her over the years to create such a flinty and abrasive demeanour. I’m very tempted to ask about Chakotay’s and my future but a small part of me is afraid to know, besides, the Temporal Prime Directive looms large; although, she seems to have no problem breaching it – she wouldn’t be here if she did.

I’ve certainly had some strange experiences in my career but nothing quite compares to the sight of my future-self briefing my officers on technology that hasn’t been invented yet. It’s a visual now indelibly etched in my mind.

Chakotay and I have barely crossed paths since the Admiral’s arrival. We’re working opposite shifts and so busy retrofitting Voyager with the new technology that neither of us has had a moment to ourselves.

I’ve also been preoccupied with my elder self and her machinations – as much as I hate to admit it, my manipulative skills are keenly honed – and I know myself well. I strongly suspect there’s something she’s not telling us. Her plan is sound but I still have reservations; she however, is determined to succeed come hell or high water and I know what I’m like when my mind is set. Chakotay once said that my arguments might be reasonable but I’m not always a reasonable woman. Painful as it might be to accept my deficiencies, I’m not blind to them either.

I want to go home and I want to believe her. So much rests on our success – my baby’s survival is first and foremost in my mind, although I temper my yearnings with the practicalities of this mission – but it’s difficult to silence my trepidation and my irritation. On some level, I feel as though I’ve been railroaded, however, my pride has no place in this decision. If the undertaking is as straightforward as the Admiral insists then we have no other option than to make the attempt.

Which is why, three days later, we return to the nebula and on my order, take Voyager back in.

We encounter several Borg ships that seem hell-bent on stopping us, but the ablative shielding and transphasic torpedoes work as the Admiral promised.

However, what we encounter inside that nebula is light-years from what we expected. I drag my eyes away from the viewscreen and glance at the Admiral to gauge her reaction; she seems unsurprised and worryingly unperturbed. I _knew_ she was hiding something.

What the Admiral failed to tell us, and what the Borg were so determined that we not find, is a transwarp hub – one of only six in the galaxy – its conduits allowing the Borg immediate access to all four quadrants.

I’m angry with the Admiral but also with myself for not taking heed of my instincts. I want to blame her for withholding this information but I have to take some of the responsibility too, and that just infuriates me further. 

I’m livid that she tried to pull the wool over our eyes and we almost come to blows on the Bridge when I refuse to enter the transwarp corridor and instead, order us out of the nebula and back into open space.

We argue – it’s something we’re both damned good at – but this Voyager is _my_ ship and I will not let her pull rank on me on _my_ Bridge.

Once clear of the nebula, I order the department heads to Astrometrics, where we begin discussing ways to destroy the hub. As Tuvok points out that it is the most significant of the Borg’s tactical advantages and now that we’ve found it, we are duty bound to do something about it. But the Admiral is still spoiling for a fight and I’ve had just about enough. After ordering my senior officers to keep working on the problem, I glare at her and jerk my head towards the door. “Let’s take a walk.”

I’m counting on Voyager’s corridors and the gentle thrum of the warp core under my feet to quell the seething anger I feel towards my older self.

Age and rank aside, this time I’m determined to get some straight answers. “I want to know why you didn’t tell me about this.”

“Because I remember how stubborn and self-righteous I used to be. I figured you might try to do something stupid.”

Stupid?! The damned nerve of the woman! But I refuse to be baited. “We have an opportunity to deal a crippling blow to the Borg. It could save millions of lives.”

“I didn’t spend the last ten years looking for a way to get this crew home earlier so you could throw it all away on some intergalactic goodwill mission.”

She’s a master at pushing my buttons. “Maybe we should go back to Sickbay.”

“Why, so you can have me sedated?”

The thought had crossed my mind but the real reason is much more pointed. “So I can have the Doctor reconfirm your identity. I refuse to believe I’ll ever become as cynical as you.”

“Am I the only one experiencing déjà vu here?”

I stop and stare at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Seven years ago, you had the chance to use the Caretaker’s array to get Voyager home. Instead you destroyed it.”

The guilt I harbour over that decision still stings. I make my usual excuse. “I did what I knew was right.”

“You chose to put the lives of strangers ahead of the lives of your crew. You can’t make the same mistake again.”

Why is she pushing this? I can’t believe I become this woman – I barely recognize myself. “You got Voyager home, which means I will, too. If it takes a few more years then that’s…”

“Your baby is going to die.”

The words almost knock me double; on instinct alone, my hands grasp at my abdomen, as I stare at the woman who bears this cruel and shocking news. I husk out a plaintive, “What?”

“Three months from now, you’ll be injured on an away mission. You’ll make it back to Voyager but you will lose your baby and your ability to have more.”

I don’t want to hear any more of this but she continues with relentless certainty.

“Chakotay will never be the same and neither will you.”

The horror makes my head spin and I begin clutching at straws. “If I know what’s going to happen, I can avoid it.”

“Our baby isn’t the only one. Between this day and the day I got Voyager home, I lost twenty-two crewmembers. And then, of course, there’s Tuvok.”

The avalanche of horror isn’t abating. “What about him?”

I’m not sure if I can endure more but the Admiral is ruthless in her determination.

She jibes cruelly, “You’re forgetting the Temporal Prime Directive, Captain.”

I want to kill her with my bare hands. “To hell with it.”

She knows she’s won, there’s a gleam of bitter triumph in her eyes. “Fine. Tuvok has a degenerative neurological condition that he hasn’t told you about. There’s a cure in the Alpha quadrant but if he doesn’t get it in time…” She pushes the blade of truth that last painful inch. “Even if you alter Voyager’s route, limit your contact with alien species, you’re going to lose people, but I’m offering you a chance to get all of them home safe and sound today. Are you really going to walk away from that?”

How can I? All that needless suffering and the loss of all those precious lives – I have no right to refuse. She knows she’s beaten me but there must be a way to get Voyager home _and_ strike a blow against the Borg. I will bend but only so far and add that proviso to my capitulation.

I think for a moment that she’s going to dig her heels in but she relents and suggests a plan – something she considered once but thought too risky.

And she’s right; it is risky, but staying in the Delta quadrant is equally so, and with my knowledge of the future, I’m duty-bound to try to save those twenty- two lives as well as my baby.

Together, the Admiral and I formulate a plan and put it into action.

We make a formidable team.

* * *

A day later, on the morning that we plan to re-enter the nebula and infiltrate the Borg hub, Chakotay comes to my quarters. It’s the first time we’ve been alone since the night the Admiral arrived.

I can tell that he’s unsure whether or not we’re doing the right thing and he voices his concerns.  “I know you’ve spent more time with the Admiral and you trust her judgment but I have some reservations.”

“Do you trust _me_?”

“Of course, I do. You know that.”

I do know that and I should tell him about the baby, but I’m due in the Shuttle bay in ten minutes and I simply don’t have time to do justice to the revelation. I hate doing this to him; he deserves better from me, but I hope that he’ll understand. I place my hand over his heart and look up at him. “Chakotay, I can’t explain all the why’s and wherefore’s just now but I’m asking you to trust me in this. It _is_ the right thing to do, I promise.”

He looks at me long and hard and I try to instil in him some of my confidence, but in the end, he’s simply going to have to trust that I have the welfare of Voyager and the crew at heart.

Finally, he nods. “All right, Kathryn.” And leaning forward, he kisses my forehead before offering me his arm. I tuck my hand into the crook of his elbow. He winks at me and grins. “Let’s do it.”

Knowing he is with me fills me with some much-needed confidence. We will make it.

We have to.

* * *

Everything is ready; the crew has been briefed and the ship prepared.

I’m focused upon the impending mission as I step through the Sickbay doors. I’m here to collect a hypospray from the Doctor that contains the neurolytic pathogen I’m to administer to the Admiral.

The Doctor hands me the hypospray but before I can leave, he queries, “Captain, have you come to any decisions about your…”

This is the last thing I need. “Doctor, this is not the time.”

“Yes, I know but you are almost out _of time_.”

“I’m well aware of that, but there are other things that take priority at the moment.”

“Should I ask the Commander?”

I almost jump down his throat. “No! I haven’t had the opportunity to speak to him yet.”

He looks at me askance. “He doesn’t know?!”

“No – as I said, _other priorities_.” I don’t have time for this. “Please Doctor, I will inform you as soon as I know myself.”

It’s not that I don’t care or think it’s not important – far from it. It’s just that I don’t have the luxury of navel gazing and endlessly ruminating about my impending motherhood when we’re sitting on the doorstep of a Borg transwarp hub with the Borg Queen set on our destruction and millions of drones ready to assimilate us at the drop of a hat.

I can see that the Doctor is about to belabour the point but a glimpse at the expression on my face makes him reconsider and he simply says, “Good luck, Captain.”

I hate to say it, but I think we’re going to need it.

* * *

My farewell to the Admiral is an emotional one although we both work hard to hide our anguish. She’s brusque and businesslike as I press the hypospray against her neck and chastises me for ‘taking my time’, but before I can turn to leave, she reaches for me, her hand resting over my still flat belly.

Her eyes meet mine and all the pain and loss is revealed as she implores, “Look after him and each other and never doubt that you’re doing the right thing. Good luck, Captain. I’m glad I got to know you again.”

For some reason, having her blessing means more to me than it probably should, but I cherish it nonetheless. For twenty-six years, the root of her obsession has been to save our child. It is something that has united us and I clasp her hand in mine for several seconds.

There are no words that can adequately convey my thanks, so I give her a solemn nod and hope that my firm grip and the look in my eyes communicates the depth of my gratitude and commitment.

I will love our son for us both.

* * *

I watch from my command chair as the Admiral’s shuttle arcs away from Voyager and streaks towards the nebula where she will meet her destiny. Once it disappears from sight, I give the nod to proceed. 

In typical Voyager fashion, B’Elanna goes into labour just before we enter the nebula – her baby will carry the distinction of being the only one ever born within a Borg transwarp conduit. As much as I regret having to do so, I order Tom to the Bridge. He reluctantly leaves B’Elanna’s side but I must have him at the helm and I know that they understand.

Tom’s expertise saves us from the worst of the turbulence but even so, it’s a bumpy ride through the Borg conduit. It’s touch and go for a while but the Admiral’s sacrifice has bought us the time we need to keep ahead of the collapsing conduits.

Success is at hand.

Like a phoenix from the ashes, we burst into the Alpha quadrant through the burning debris of an exploded Borg Sphere leaving in our wake its shattered debris and the rapidly closing aperture.

In front of us, a small armada of Federation vessels weaves back and forth in attack formation. I guess we’ve given them something of a scare but I haven’t seen anything so wonderful in all my life.

I mutter an incredulous, “We did it.”

I still can’t believe that we’re really here and I look to Chakotay for confirmation. His face breaks into a beaming smile and he moves towards me as though he’s about to take me into his arms but checks himself. Instead, he reaches for my hand and shakes it firmly.

We’re home!

The realization suddenly hits me. _And Chakotay is shaking my hand?!_ I toss caution to the wind and throw my arms around him, hugging him tight. I don’t care what the crew thinks – although, I’m pretty sure they’ll be pleased – and as far as the brass is concerned, well, I think we’ve earned our moment in the sun.

Chakotay is whispering in my ear, congratulating me, thanking me and telling me that he loves me, and as I look past his shoulder, Harry is beaming at us.

The moment is shattered by a beep from the comm. console.

“We’re being hailed.”

I reluctantly pull out of Chakotay’s arms and stand at parade rest. “On screen.”

Owen Paris, Reg Barclay and several other officers I don’t recognize are staring at us, clearly shocked by Voyager’s sudden appearance. I want to laugh and cry at the same time but do neither. Instead, I glibly announce, “Sorry to surprise you. Next time, we’ll call ahead.”

“Welcome back.”

What does one say after being stranded for seven years on the other side of the galaxy? “It’s good to be here.” My response is sorely lacking but it’s all I can think to say.

Admiral Paris is obviously just as surprised as we are. His eyes rake over the Bridge and still for a moment as he reaches the conn. I see his shoulders relax upon knowing that his son is safe. He meets my gaze again. “How did you…?”

Now that’s something I’m not prepared to go into now, so I forestall him with a brusque, “It’ll all be in my report, sir.”

There’s not a lot more that we can say at this point. With a smile and a nod, Owen Paris acknowledges my response. “I’ll look forward to it.”

The screen shifts back to the starships and the wonderfully familiar star field. I look down and mutter my thanks to Admiral Janeway. Wherever she is, I hope she knows we made it.

And now it’s time to go home.

_“Sickbay to the Bridge.”_  We can hear a baby crying in the background and Tom looks up at me in wonder. All I can do is smile.

_“Doctor to Lieutenant Paris. There’s someone here who’d like to say hello._

But first things first. “You’d better get down there, Tom.”

Chakotay moves to take the helm, but I shake my head and order Ensign Culhane to take Tom’s place.

I pat the young man on the shoulder. “Set a course for home.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Then I turn to Chakotay. “Commander, will you join me in my Ready Room?”

Our eyes meet and his answer is a non-verbal one but for the sake of those present, he snaps out a smart, “Aye, Captain.”

I glance at Tuvok as I pass Tactical but don’t wait for his reply as I give the order, “You have the Bridge, Commander.”

I head straight to the viewport after we enter my Ready Room and Chakotay follows, standing beside me to watch Earth as we approach.

He rests his hand on my shoulder and I turn to look at him, my eyes stinging with tears. “Welcome home, Chakotay.”

“You did it, Kathryn.”

“With a lot of help from the Admiral.”

“Well, she _was_ you.”

“ _No, she wasn’t_.” Chakotay shifts slightly so he can see my face, no doubt surprised by my emphatic response. I explain. “She suffered terrible losses during her lifetime and became the woman she was because of them. I won’t ever be her.”

He frowns. “It’s not surprising. Another sixteen years in the Delta quadrant – we were bound to lose people.”

“Not like this.”

I turn to face him and I take his hand, holding it between both of mine. “The other morning when I felt ill and took myself to Sickbay, well, it wasn’t simply an upset stomach. It was morning sickness; I’m pregnant.”

It takes a moment for my confession to sink in and I watch closely so I can judge his reaction. I see the exact moment when the penny drops and I’m not disappointed.

His eyes light up and he gasps. “You’re pregnant? You mean we’re having a baby?” His eyes are wide with wonder and delight. I was right – ecstatic is the only word to describe the look on his face.

I laugh – both from happiness and relief. I can’t imagine his reaction being any different, but one never knows. “Yes, we’re having a baby.”

His brow furrows. “But we only had… I mean, we only slept together that one night.”

“As the Doctor would say, it only takes one sperm and one egg. We’re very efficient it seems.”

“Aren’t we just?” He laughs but then looks concerned. “You’re happy about this? I mean, it wasn’t something we’d planned or expected. I don’t want to assume…”

I have to stop him there. “Assume away. Yes, I’m happy about this and now that we’re back in the Alpha quadrant, I’m over the moon!” I glance out the window and smile – we’re coming into Earth’s orbit. “Almost literally.” I don’t know why I find that so funny, but I’m a little giddy and overwhelmed. “I had intended to tell you that night at dinner but the Admiral’s arrival interrupted my plans. After that we were so busy, there wasn’t really a good time. But now that we’re home, we don’t have to confront the sort of decisions we were facing in the DQ.”

He takes a deep breath and I see the look in his eyes as he comprehends the dilemmas we faced. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that alone.”

It doesn’t matter now and I don’t want our happiness to be tainted by might-have-beens. Plus, there’s more to tell him.  “It’s a boy.”

He blinks slowly and looks down before he places his hands on either side of my face – I feel so loved. “A son, a daughter, I don’t care. I’m just so happy. I’ve spent years imagining what our children would be like but never, in my wildest dreams, did I think we would have the opportunity to have a family.” And then he kisses me. It’s filled with love, passion and yearning; I can feel it in the pressure of his lips and the gentle caress of his hands. I am the mother of his child and I am cherished. This is what dreams are made of.

And he imagined our children? I’m surprised and deeply touched, and all I want to do is drag him to my quarters and throw those last constraints out an airlock, but for the time being, we have to content ourselves with spending some quiet time together before we head back to the Bridge.

His lips draw away from mine but I don’t want to let him go. He reads me so well and envelops me in an embrace as I wrap my arms around him.

“Did the Admiral have any children?”

I should have anticipated this; he’s no fool and has extrapolated from what little information I’ve given him that there is more to the story.

The only thing that will appease his curiosity is the truth and as harsh as it is, he needs to understand her sacrifice and why we chose to take the risk of returning home.

“No, the Admiral was childless. About three months from now, in her timeline, she was injured on an away mission and our baby died. It broke us and we were never the same afterwards.”

He eases back and looks stricken. “I blamed you?”

“No, I blamed myself and pulled away from you as a result. I never fully recovered from the guilt or the grief.”

He hugs me and kisses his way to my mouth again. “I love you, Kathryn Janeway, and I love our baby.”

I smile and echo his words.

Two minutes later, the door chimes and duty calls.

* * *

#### December 2404

“Captain Janeway.”

“Admiral.”

I smile proudly and salute before stepping forward to kiss the cheek of the young man wearing command red. The four shiny pips I’ve just pinned on his collar glint brightly in the San Francisco sunshine. Chakotay is beside me, impatient to have his turn congratulating the newly minted captain.

He hauls the young man into an embrace but after a moment, steps back and clasps the rookie captain’s broad shoulders with sure hands.  “I’m so proud of you, son.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Hey, Mak, congrats.” Our daughter, Kaia, grabs the front of her brother’s uniform jacket and plants a noisy kiss on his cheek before clapping him on the shoulder. “The youngest Starship captain in Starfleet history – do you have any idea how tough you’re making it for me? Sheesh!”

Our twenty-six year old son laughs and drapes his arm around his sister’s shoulder and grins. “I bet in another year or two you’ll be running the Science Academy.”

She grins and digs him in the ribs with her elbow. “I am already; they just don’t realize it yet.”

Chakotay looks at me; I see in his eyes the same glimmer of pride and delight that he wore that day in the Ready Room when I told him that I was having his baby.

My eyes are drawn to my children – two of the most extraordinary individuals I’m ever likely to meet – and I marvel at the capricious nature of life, its twists and turns, and how the unexpected can bring such joy and wonder.

I kept my promise to the Admiral and have lived my life for both of us. I’ve loved every minute of it and although I know it’s unlikely, a small part of me hopes that wherever she is in space or time, she is aware and pleased with the outcome. I know I am.

On Voyager’s return, I chose to remain with Starfleet but took a year’s sabbatical. My pregnancy was unremarkable and Makya came into the world on a hot day in early June, seven and a half months after we arrived back in the Alpha quadrant. He was born with a shock of black hair, his father’s eyes and his mother’s temperament. I’ve never seen Chakotay more proud than when he held his son in his arms for the first time – except perhaps when he cradled the tiny trembling body of his daughter a little less than two years later. He is the father I always imagined him to be; attentive, playful, caring, loving and kind. Our children are the impressive people they are today because of him, and knowing that fills me with such a sense of pride and deep gratitude.  

Chakotay resigned his temporary commission on our return and took up an academic position at Starfleet academy as a professor of anthropology. He is renowned in his field and today continues his illustrious academic career. Our daughter has followed in his footsteps, choosing a civilian career in the sciences rather than joining her brother in Starfleet.

I was promoted to the admiralty two years after Kaia was born and have never regretted my choice to stay planetside with my family. Space lost much of its allure once we were home and although I was involved in many off world negotiations as Starfleet envoy, my exploring days were over.

I have been where no one had gone before and there’s no topping that experience.  

Voyager, under the command of several different captains – Harry Kim being one of them – continued to explore the galaxy for another twenty years before she was retired and, in a nod to her extraordinary achievements, became a museum in the grounds of the Presidio.

The Voyager crew has remained a tight-knit group and to see them all wandering the corridors and departments the day of the unveiling was an uplifting experience. Our old ship has become something of a homing beacon to all the old crew and their children, and her legend lives on through them.

Today, in many ways, we’ve come full circle with my son’s promotion and his captaincy of the newly commissioned, Voyager II. Miral Paris is his first officer and amongst his crew are many familiar names – offspring of several of the original crew.

Mak leaves orbit on his first assignment within the week and I my hope is that it goes better than my first command, although, from where I stand now, I wouldn’t change a thing. The nature of space exploration has always been unpredictable; it’s what draws us to it – the lure of the unknown and the prospect of challenges that enrich and enlighten us. I wouldn’t be here now if we hadn’t encountered the Caretaker all those years ago.

I look at my family and send thanks once more to Admiral Janeway for her stubborn refusal to back away from what she knew was right. Her sacrifice allowed me this life and this love. I am forever grateful and never venture far from the realization that it all could have been so different.

My reminiscences are interrupted by a communication from Headquarters. Mak has been recalled to his ship for some last minute updates and Kaia beams up with him to say good-bye to their friends. My chest tightens with pride as they both smile and wave at us just before transporter takes them.

We find ourselves alone. Chakotay smiles at me and tucks my hand into the crook of his arm before leading me over to the viewing platform to look across at Voyager. She’s bathed in lights with a backdrop of the Bay behind her and she looks beautiful.  I wonder if she’s happy being here or if she hankers for the stars. Either way, my thoughts make me smile. Tuvok would chastise me for anthropomorphizing an inanimate object but I know Chakotay understands how I feel.

As if to prove my point, he kisses the top of my head and muses, “She looks good there, don’t you think? As though this was her destiny.”

I wrap my arm around his waist and rest my head against his shoulder. “My love, that’s exactly what I was thinking.”

He looks down at me and smiles. “Of course, you were.”

And just like that, our love weaves around us, binding us ever closer and in quiet accord, we remember our yesterdays and look towards tomorrow.   

fin


End file.
